


unacceptable

by void_emissary



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anger Management, Angst, Character Study, Gen, Genji Shimada (mentioned) - Freeform, Hanzo hates himself, Other, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, but there's hope!, life advice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 23:33:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14681787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/void_emissary/pseuds/void_emissary
Summary: Hanzo joined the recall, to Genji's behest. But he's unhappy. Struggling to find sense in his existence, and to heal, he seeks out answers at the edge of a cliff. Zenyatta hears his plea.





	unacceptable

**Author's Note:**

> also on my writing blog! my dear friend basil requested a hanzo and zen interaction where hanzo seeks zenyatta for counsel. this took me 90 years to complete, but here it is!

It was too much to acclimate to all at once. A talking gorilla scientist, a young woman who could sort of time travel, a cowboy… and then there was his brother, who years ago he’d murdered with his own hands for reasons that seemed so frivolous now. His brother, who he thought was a ghost at first, now greeted him daily, laughed, ate… Things Hanzo thought he’d taken from him. 

He hated himself for it. Some of the others hated him for it, too. Mistrusted his motives--confronted him a few times about his real reason in joining them. And then there were the ones that threatened him. If he ever hurt Genji again, there would be a line of people ready to end him. They’d pick him apart at the first sign of betrayal--and he’d let them. He deserved it. 

Genji had forgiven him, but he had yet to forgive himself. And in his moments of insecurity, he lashed out--called Genji names, insulted any one that spoke too freely around him. Even at the tranquil looking omnic that had been introduced as Genji’s teacher. Teacher. A teacher that spoke of Genji with such familiarity and ease that it rankled Hanzo to his core. 

And once, when they first met, this omnic--Zenyatta--said to Hanzo with a similar kind of familiarity, “I can sense within you the same rage that once consumed your brother.”

“He and I are nothing alike,” he’d seethed, repulsed by the idea that he might share qualities with his brother at all. 

The moment would weigh on him to the point of paranoia. Was it obvious to the others that he was struggling? That he was angry at Genji for surviving-- most of all angry at himself for his own indiscretions? He had no reason to feel guilt, not when he’d been raised to run a crime family--not when Genji was unworthy of his thoughts. 

Yet, when he found himself alone, away from prying eyes and prying hearts, the world crushed him beneath its heel, turning him to dust. Genji had learned to laugh again, had found peace, because an omnic had opened its heart to him. Genji was whole, maybe not physically, but in his soul--and underneath all of his rage, ego, and bravado, Hanzo was jealous of that. He was fiercely jealous of Genji’s ability to heal from all that had happened. Almost, in some ways, like it had never really happened. 

Alone, Hanzo drank. When he didn’t drink, he trained himself into exhaustion. There was little else to do between missions and he prided himself on his ability to stay far, far away from anyone who might nose into his business. Some days, though, were worse than others. 

On one such night when the base was nearly empty and the sins of his past pressed in on him, suffocating, he drank until the edges of his vision were softened, blurred, and his feet were just unsteady enough that he needed to reach out to occasionally support himself on a wall. 

In his drunken state, he meandered out to the cliffs of the Gibraltar base. Far below the platforms and empty halls, the waves crashed solemnly against the rocks, illuminated barely by a crescent moon high above. With his back to the base, he gazed out from his spot on what felt like the edge of the world. Somewhere in his mind he wondered idly if he were to throw himself into the waves, would they ever find him? It wouldn’t be a gentle death, lungs filling with water, body fighting back until finally it relinquished itself to the darkness. But it would end his torment. He snapped himself out of it, squeezing his hands into balls at his sides. There was no easy way out of this--he didn’t deserve an easy way out. 

“I can sense that much troubles you,” a gentle metallic voice rang in the silence, temporarily startling Hanzo, who hadn’t heard the approach at all. 

He turned halfway on his heel, angling his body like a knife. Not that he thought Zenyatta would attack him or anything, but every interaction on this base warranted some degree of caution on his part. Beneath the light of the moon, Zenyatta looked otherworldly and ominous--shiny and chrome, with the lights of his face casting him in odd shadows. Golden light, delicate and soft, danced around his neck, radiating from those strange orbs Hanzo had seen smash flesh and bone in fights. From there, with the wind brushing by, Hanzo could have sworn they were striking notes like a wind chime might. 

He thought to leave, coiled his muscles in anticipation--but he was rooted to the ground, staring at the expressionless face angled in his direction. There again, swarming his chest in thousands of pin pricks and needles, the anger that had been stilled by grief earlier in the day was once more filling him to the brim. He made a click of displeasure with his tongue, swaying on his feet enough to remind him the sheer volume of sake coursing through him. 

“Omnic,” he made no attempt to address Zenyatta respectfully or by name. “You once said that you could see the same anger in me that my brother once had…”

“I did.”

A long beat of silence fell between them as Hanzo grasped for what he really wanted to ask--fighting within himself over whether or not it was even worth asking at all. Asking questions would be an admission to guilt, to wanting to change. But that anger inside made him nauseous like an illness might, churning his gut in uneasy waves. The temptation to flee gripped him like a vice, and he wondered not for the first time _what am I doing_. Genji had been full of rage, the same as his, because they both hated him. Genji hated him for what he did, he hated himself for what he did. Maybe Genji hated what he had to become--hated all the mechanical parts that replaced everything Hanzo had stripped away from him. 

He swallowed down the lump in his throat, drawing his eyebrows together in frustration as he pursed his lips. Suddenly he was thirsty, his mouth dry like he’d taken in a mouthful of ash. He had to look away from the impassive, chrome face that stared at him with all the patience of an immortal lump of steel, turning his gaze upon the sea once more, as though it offered answers in its waves. He swayed again, feeling remarkably dizzy. 

“How?” The question felt wrong leaving his mouth, awkward and too open ended. His shoulders slumped and he sighed, voice low and distant even to himself. “How did the anger subside? How was it released from him?”

“I cannot tell you of his own journey. That is for him to say.” When Zenyatta responded after another long pause, his voice was closer than it had been. Hanzo stiffened imperceptibly, fingers curling in his fists. “But, if you seek guidance for yourself, I can offer what I know.”

Hanzo turned sharply on his heel to face the omnic, biting back an angry stream of words that sat heavy on the tip of his tongue, venomous and lethal. There was no reason to lash out, not when he’d been the one to ask--not when he was standing on this precipice, where either death or salvation awaited him. Below, the waves crashed against the sharp rocks. The moon hung far above in quiet judgment. Hanzo’s gaze fell to the grass between them, legs wobbling. 

“It’s… The guidance I seek is for myself.”

Zenyatta stared in quiet contemplation, tilting his head towards the older Shimada. “To resolve anger, you must pursue acceptance. With yourself, and with your past.” 

“Acceptance?” He scoffed. “It can’t be that easy.” 

“I see you have the same petulance Genji once had, as well,” Zenyatta laughed, then, amused at the shock worn plainly on Hanzo’s face. “Accept that your past happened, that you cannot change those events, but do not cling to it. Observe it, and let it flow through you. Only then your heart can begin to heal.”

Hanzo’s mouth twisted into a frown, teeth grinding in frustration. This was all ridiculous. But he’d asked his questions, and gotten an answer. Whether he liked it or not was inconsequential. And, as much as his ego hated to admit it, he knew deep down that Zenyatta spoke wise truths to him. That at his core, he thought himself, his past, his actions, were unacceptable. As a reflection of the self, the world was also unacceptable. His fingers tightened, knuckles going white.

And he turned away, to the water stretching out beyond the cliff. 

“Should you desire to walk the path of redemption and peace, I will be waiting here tomorrow at the same time.”

Hanzo didn’t hear Zenyatta leave, didn’t watch him leave either. He stood for a long while, watching the waves, listening to their music, imagining that this rage coiled around his heart was leaving him in a swell of water. And if any of that water leaked from his eyes, he’d blame the booze. 

The next night, he’d try again.

**Author's Note:**

> catch me on twitter @void_emissary and tumblr @void-emissary !


End file.
